


U elyë, Ar-Pharazôn.

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Akallabêth/Last Alliance, Canon - Enhances original, Characters - Well-handled emotions, General, Plot - Disturbing/frightening/unsettling, Plot - Fast moving, Subjects - Legends/Myth/History, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Every word counts, Writing - Evocative, Writing - Well-handled introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story based on Tar-Miriel's thoughts towards her husband Ar-Pharazon before the sinking of Numenor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	U elyë, Ar-Pharazôn.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

The ground trembles with utter convulsion as never seen before to the eyes of any Edain nor Eldar.

The earth has suddenly come alive, no longer water and soil on which we live upon but a monster, terrible and destructive in its fullness, a monster which has been dormant for several ages, quiet and kempt, a monster which has been woken.

Hear the roaring of the wind and the waves. It is the voice of this dreadful creature. Hear it thundering in its horrendous delight, pounding upon the shores, crushing the stones and moving the mountains, spilling the stars and sliding the hills. Hear it cry out as it submerges into Belegaer.

Feel the waters flood the land, spread and submerge in violent torrents of cold icy passion. Feel the dirt shudder beneath your feet, feel the undertow of mud drag you down into its depths. Feel the fires of Meneltarma burn and spread. Feel the earth slip from under you, spin and fall into the sea, digest and regurgitate till naught is left. Feel it all crumble at your fingers, at your touch fall into detonation.

See it all swallowed into the dark realms of the sea, sucked into her bosom forever, see it all fall to the powers of Eru. See all of your workings demise before your eyes. Watch your followers struggle to live, to receive a last breath of air. See all five peninsulas be ingested to the bays, one by one, Andustar, Forostar, Orrostar, Hyarnustar and Hyarrostar. Watch the great cities of the Númenor fall, the stone crumble, the streets grind. Watch the tombs of your father and forefathers be dragged into the earth. See your many jewels and riches decay within seconds. Watch as the arms of Illúvatar come forth and crush everything that you own to dust.

Watch as you fall to your demise with your lands and your people. Watch as your pride and ambition becoming your bane and your downfall and feyness. Watch as the nine ships, nine of all those in your bays, nine filled with the faithful, the Elendili escape from the tumults and destruction.

Do you hear it? Do you feel it? Do you see it? Do you see the doom upon which you have brought us?

Do you hear the screams of the maidens and men, no longer in their lofty halls? Do you hear the children crying for their mothers? Do you hear the men cursing aloud the names of you and your forefathers? Where are your followers now? Are they at your side to help you now? Do they hear your cry. Are they there to come at your bidding?

Who now is the king of Arda Ar-Pharazôn?

Now watch as you fall and with you your towers, lands, ships and people. None there are to come to your aid now. Neither thronged sleets nor armed soldiers in your greedy folly shall come. The ban you have broken and so your reign shalt break too.

A fool you are to deem yourself as such in the eyes of Manwё the true king of Arda, for he is the High-King over Arda and him alone. Never can you, a mortal man of the race of Edain, match up to his splendour, no matter how many ships you take with you.

A fool you are to think that you could make war upon the mighty Lord of the West. Be you a king, you are still Man. Never can you possess immortal life as the Eldar. Nay, never can it be.

Edain, not Eldar.

And in sense it no longer matters. We are but Men and our doom, our gift, is to die. No matter what evil deeds that are done, in the end our doom is to die.

Men cenuva i fánë ciryar métima hrestallo círa? Man cenuva métim’ andúnë? U elyë, Ar-Pharazôn. U elyë, u inyë.

 

**Notes**  
 _Men cenuva i fánë ciryar métima hrestallo círa? Man cenuva métim’ andúnë? U elyë, Ar-Pharazôn. U elyë, u inyë._ -Who shall see a white ship leave the last shore, who shall see the last evening? Not you Ar-Pharazon. Not you, nor me.  



End file.
